Dolores Umbridge stood on the top step of main entrance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There was a little smug smile of satisfaction on her round face despite the fact that she distinctly disliked the place. It didn't bring back fond memories of her time here as a girl. Still, now it was her time and she would bring the unruly school to order. Of course, the school was quite nice now but that was because the children hadn't arrived yet. She didn't like children... boisterous, messy, noisy things but there were ways of dealing with those minor problems.
She straightened her little pink cardigan that sat across her shoulders.
Yes, order was the rule of the day. Order and discipline. The encouragement of free speech, diversity, and multiple points of view would not be tolerated but rather she would lead by consensus and if that didn't work, fear and intimidation. She had a plan and Dumbledore's days were numbered because he sat in opposition to Minister Fudge and the authority of the British Ministry of Magic. She would oust Dumbledore for daring to threaten the Minister's position and for training students like Potter to undermine the Ministry and then she would bring discipline to this place. She would bring Hogwarts in line with total Ministry rule.
She turned and went back to her office, waiting for the beginning of the first dinner of the term. She straightened a couple of pictures of her little darling cats. They may have been a considerable number of them but everything was in a distinct order. The cat pictures were hung in the order of her darlings' ages. She repositioned a book that wasn't sitting in size order and smiled before straightened the quill on her desk that was next to her ink pot. She checked her watch and left for the Great Hall, ensuring she would be early so she could take the seat at Dumbledore's right-hand side, consciously usurping Deputy-Headmistress McGonagall in the pecking order of authority.
She kept the little smile on her face throughout the Sorting Hat's song even though it sang about uniting against a common foe, alluding to Dumbledore's and Potter's lies about the return of He Who Must Not Be Named. Minister Fudge said it was untrue and his word was absolute; after all, he was at Hogwarts when the Triwizard Tournament happened so he should know about these things. Her eyes swept across the Great Hall until she found the unbearable child with his offensive hair. Her eyes hardened, yes, he would be the first she would break. She would get him to retract his words before the term was out.
After the feast, Dumbledore stood to give his notifications and introduce the new staff.
'Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the...'
'...hem-hem,' Dolores interrupted, standing up, although she was not much taller standing than sitting.
Everyone looked rather confused as to why the Headmaster has stopped talking but she ignored them, her head slightly on one side as she smiled benevolently at the boys and girls in front of her.
Harry looked along the staff table, nearly smirking at the different faces of disapproval and shock that Umbridge should interrupt the Headmaster and want to give a speech. No new member of staff had ever done that. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared, even Snape's eyes had narrowed, and Minnie's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. Though he knew Minnie already disapproved of Umbridge after he'd told her about his hearing and Umbridge's fluster when Dumbledore demanded an enquiry as to who ordered the Dementors to attack Harry when he was on his annual visit to Little Whinging. It was clear the blame lay with her but he was yet to understand why. When he visited Grimmauld Place for the first time, Sirius had ranted it was because she was 'an ambitious, power-hungry Ministry absolutist who was devoid of any kind of moral or ethical centre and intolerant of anyone who stood in the way of a totalitarian state'. Harry was inclined to take Sirius's words with a pinch of salt because he was bitter about the anti-werewolf legislation Umbridge had drafted two years previously, not only because of its prejudices but because it made it almost impossible for Remus to get a job.
It was impossible, Harry thought, to forget her high-pitched, breathy, and little-girlish voice from the hearing and, again, Harry felt a powerful rush of dislike. He loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. And she proceeded to address them all like they were five-years-old.
'hem-hem...' she coughed again and Harry wanted to throw a tin of throat lozenges at her horrible toady face. 'The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance...There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering... Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited...'
Perhaps, thought Harry, Sirius was right. She sounded like she was intending to re-write the rule book and that the Ministry were behind it. Harry didn't trust a word she said and it was confirmed by Hermione who said through gritted teeth that the Ministry was interfering at Hogwarts.
Harry felt very tetchy and angry. He had been all summer since Cedric's death.
He left Umbridge's first Defence class merely five minutes in with a note for Minnie. He was in a foul mood but what was new these days. It didn't help that he got in an argument with Peeves outside the deputy-headmistress's office.
'What on earth are you shouting about, Harry?' Minnie snapped, as her door flew open and she emerged looking grim and slightly harassed.
Peeves cackled gleefully and zoomed out of sight.
'Why aren't you in class?'
'I've been sent to see you,' said Harry stiffly, not looking forward to a reprimand from Minnie too.
'Sent? What do you mean, sent?'
He held out the note from Umbridge and she took it, frowning, and tapped it open with her wand. Her eyes narrowed as she got further and further down the page.
'Come in here, Harry.'
The door closed automatically behind him.
'Well?' she said, rounding on him. 'Is this true?'
'Is what true?' Harry asked, rather more aggressively than he had intended. 'Mum?' he added, in an attempt to sound politer. He knew better than to cross Minnie.
'Is it true you shouted at Professor Umbridge?'
'Yes.'
'You called her a liar?'
'Yes.'
'You told her Voldemort was back?'
'Yes.'
She sat down behind her desk, watching Harry closely. Then she said, 'have a biscuit, Harry.'
'Have... what?'
'A biscuit,' she repeated. 'And sit down.'
He sat down heavily and helped himself to a Ginger Newt from the tartan tin. He felt wrong-footed.
'Harry,' she sighed. 'You need to be careful. Misbehaviour in Dolores Umbridge's class could cost you much more than House points and a detention.'
'What do you...?'
'...use your common sense, Harry. I've brought you up to think more critically than this,' she snapped. 'You know where she comes from, you know to whom she is reporting. You'll have to attend her detentions...'
'...can't you...?'
'...no, I couldn't,' Minnie said flatly.
'But I was telling the truth!' Harry was outraged. 'Voldemort is back, you know I'm not lying...'
'For goodness sake, Harry!' said Minnie, straightening her glasses angrily. 'Do you really think this is about truth or lies? It's about keeping your head down and your temper under control!'
She stood up, nostrils wide and mouth very thin, and Harry stood too.
'Have another biscuit,' she said irritably, thrusting the tin at him.
'No, thanks,' he said coldly.
'Don't be ridiculous,' she snapped.
He took one.
'Thanks,' he said grudgingly.
'Didn't you listen to her speech at the start-of-term feast, Harry?'
'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Yeah... she said... progress will be prohibited or... well, the Ministry of Magic is trying to interfere at Hogwarts.'
She eyed him closely for a moment, then sniffed and walked around her desk to hold her door open for him.
'Well, I'm glad you listen to Hermione at any rate,' she said, pointing him out of her office.
His first week back was proving to be terrible. Even Angelina, as the new Quidditch Captain seemed to be channelling Oliver Wood's highly-strung way of managing the team, Snape was being his usual nightmare and Malfoy took every opportunity to try and get a rise of him. He was trying to control his temper but he felt isolated by those who didn't believe him about Voldemort, those who were waiting for him to become 'unhinged' again, and angry that Dumbledore seemed to be ignoring his very existence. Even Minnie was taking a step back this year. He thought, ruefully, he really could have done with a hug when he left her office at the beginning of the week.
He tapped on Umbridge's office door for his first detention.
Dolores said 'come in' in her sugary voice.
She watched Potter closely as he entered, looking around her office with clear distaste on his face.
'Good evening, Mr Potter,' she said,'
'Evening, Professor,' he replied stiffly.
'Well, sit down,' she pointed towards a small table draped in lace beside which she'd drawn up a straight-backed chair. A piece of parchment lay waiting. 'Your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, Mr Potter, is to write lines every night this week. It ought to reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you.'
She watched him closely, the smile fixed on her face. She watched him battling to control his temper and the urge to lash out and shout again. He turned away and dropped his school bag beside the chair. It pleased her, it meant he was learning. Order and discipline...
'There,' she said sweetly, 'we're getting better at controlling our temper already, aren't we? Now, you won't be using your quill,' she added, as Potter bent down to open his bag. 'You're going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are.'
She handed him a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point.
'I want you to write, I must not tell lies,' she told him softly.
'How many times?' Potter asked, nearly politely.
'Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in,' she said sweetly. 'Off you go.'
She sat down at her desk.
'I haven't got any ink.'
'Oh, you won't need ink,' she said, trying to hide the laughter that threatened to break in her voice.
She watched him intensely, her heart racing. Her smile widening as he gasped in pain.
'Yes?' she said, keenly.
'Nothing,' said the boy, quietly.
A means to an end, she thought in satisfaction. She would break him. He would learn. It gave her a thrill to have such control, such power over someone. It was exciting to see him battle to remain silent. They both understood that she was in charge here and she won whichever way this played out: that if he spoke out or lashed out at the pain, she had broken his resolve; if he refused his detention, it meant she could expel him; if he remained silent, she had mastered him. Yes, this way was the best for it also had to come from him at her command, he punished himself, physically and psychologically, at her command. She sat for a long time, just watching him write line after line in his own blood.
It was dark when she eventually said, 'you may stop. Show me your hand.'
She ran a finger over the redness and bumps but it had still healed. It would take more, but she knew that from the beginning.
Minerva stood up when there was a knock on her staff quarter's door. When she opened it, Harry dropped his schoolbag and flung himself into her arms, holding onto her tight as he buried his face into her shoulder. She hugged him firmly, not knowing why her boy needed this.
'Is everything alright, Harry?' she said softly.
'Yes,' he said, his voice cracking slightly.
She knew it wasn't.
'Have you just finished your detention with Professor Umbridge?'
'Yes,' his voice was muffled against her robes.
'Harry?' she said, suddenly afraid. 'What did you have to do?'
'Write lines. I must not tell lies,' he mumbled.
'All this time?'
'Yes.'
'Are you alright?' she asked again.
'Yes.' Suddenly he pulled away, refusing to make eye contact with her. 'I just needed a hug. I'd better go, I've got homework to finish.' And he scooped up his schoolbag and hurried away.
She noticed he held himself differently, he was hunched over, his head bowed, his sleeves over his hands.
She was distinctly worried, especially as he returned for a hug every night after he had detention with Umbridge but he wouldn't say why.
Minerva wasn't stupid, she knew something untoward was happening in those detentions, she suspected that it was outside any of the Educational Decrees that Umbridge put so much store in but Harry wouldn't say.
Mind you, the Decrees were always so ambivalently worded. This latest one, for example, No.23, which appointed Umbridge to the post of 'Hogwarts High Inquisitor'. That fool, Percy Weasley, had announced in the Prophet that it was following her 'immediate success in totally revolutionising the teaching of Defence Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the ground feedback about what's really happening at Hogwarts.' She wondered how Percy Weasley could tell how she revolutionised the teaching of a subject after only eight days at the school and without attending any of her classes himself. And to think she'd suggested he was a suitable candidate for Head Boy.
Lucius Malfoy's comment in the paper was much more telling: that he felt 'much easier in my mind now that I know that Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation. Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and will be glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation.'
Yes, the Ministry was interfering without even trying to hide it. And it meant Umbridge's power had increased another notch as she used her position to evaluate, harass, and fire any teachers at Hogwarts deemed unsatisfactory by her or the Ministry.
And yes, Minerva distinctly disliked Dolores Umbridge. Plus, she took it personally that the loathsome woman liked cats.
Ron thought it was the best bloody thing that had happened in years when Umbridge sat in on their Transfiguration class to assess Professor McGonagall. McGonagall wiped the floor with the stupid bitch, starting with completely ignoring her presence in the corner of the classroom.
'Hem-hem,' came the little cough after McGonagall had barely said five words to the class.
'Yes?' McGonagall had turned around, her eyebrows drawn so close together they almost seemed like one line.
'I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you the date and time of your inspec...'
'...obviously I received it, or I would have asked what you are doing in my classroom.' McGonagall turned her back on the woman.
Many of Ron's classmates were exchanging looks of glee. It was nearly worth putting his books and quills away and just sitting back to watch. He knew who his money was on in this fight.
'As I was saying: today, we shall be practicing the altogether more difficult Vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell...'
'...hem-hem.'
'I wonder,' said Professor McGonagall in cold fury, turning on Umbridge, 'how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking.'
Umbridge looked like she'd just been slapped in the bloody face.
Looking supremely unconcerned by Umbridge's sudden scrawling of notes on her parchment, McGonagall turned back to teach.
'How can she lecture me about not losing my temper with Umbridge!' Harry muttered to Ron under his breath but he was grinning and his temper, for once, had completely disappeared.
Harry's temper was only to get worse as the term progressed. First by those who openly doubted his version of events and believed the Daily Prophet; then with Malfoy's continuous sneering and derogatory comments, and Snape patronising him, both of which were just plain wearing; but by far the worse of the lot was Umbridge. She appeared to have a personal vendetta against him but he refused to be broken by her.
Minerva kept her eyes open; she had noticed things around the school which she didn't like. She saw the Weasley twins comforting crying first years, she saw students talking in low subdued whispers, she heard rumours about Umbridge's classes: that the woman only taught a politically restricted Ministry-approved curriculum. A curriculum that was entirely theory based with no practical applications and that her lack of teaching background meant she had trouble maintaining her class's attentions so she simply ordered them to read without asking any questions. The few who complained, feeling concerned that they would be left defenceless against the Dark Arts were immediately silenced or punished.
Umbridge, however, steadfastly stuck to her line that He Who Must Not Be Named had not returned and owing to her immoveable stance, her draconian style, her lack of teaching ability, obvious disrespect towards the school and its residents, and her unwavering loyalty to Fudge, it meant that even those who had doubted Harry to begin with were now quickly turning against Umbridge. Amongst students and staff alike, Dolores Umbridge quickly became the most heavily disliked person in the school.
Minerva felt, though, that she should at least talk to Albus about things.
'My hands are tied, Minerva. Dolores is a Ministry-woman through and through. She believes in Fudge and his ridiculous denials and the Decrees that have been put in place leave me with no options.'
'There must be something we can do.'
'Not us, Minerva. Though we can turn the occasional blind eye when someone else stands against the likes of such an oppressor.'
'What do you mean, Albus?'
'Tell me, Minerva, what happens in regimes where people are ruled by cruel and callous, even sadistic, authorities?'
'Rebellion, revolution even.'
'Indeed,' Albus's eyes twinkled behind his glasses. 'Her arrogance will be her downfall. She does not see that her dogmatic support of the Ministry of Magic will turn her subjects away from that power. She is digging Fudge's grave for him and he is climbing in there beside her.'
'But doesn't this not play into Voldemort's hands?'
'Possibly, it depends on when Voldemort plays his next hand. My sources tell me he is lying low, quietly gathering his resources and building up his following again. He has begun to infiltrate the Ministry but does not want to show himself yet. If we can force him out of hiding... Fudge will have to step down when the Wizarding World can no longer deny that Voldemort has returned.'
'And the guard duty at the Ministry, nothing yet?'
'No, nothing. But we are making his plans harder to complete, it may force him out into the open.'
'And the rebellion within the walls of the school?'
'I believe it has already begun. I believe young Harry has been encouraged by his friends to teach practical Defence skills to supplement their theory lessons.'
Minerva raised an eyebrow. Harry had not mentioned it to her but perhaps it was better that way.
'I believe he is proving a very popular and talented teacher, his students are already showing considerably skill at disarming and shielding spells and he is currently teaching them how to cast a full-corporeal Patronus. I understand Miss Chang is particularly enamoured with her new Defence teacher.'
Minerva raised an eyebrow, not that she missed how her son looked at Cho. 'How do you know these things, Albus?'
'I have my sources. But, Minerva, know that as soon as Dolores finds out she will try and quash it. And she will blame me. Her ultimate goal is to oust me. It will probably happen, albeit temporarily, before the year is out. I will leave the school in your hands and it will give me time to continue with Order business. There is much to do.'
She nodded, falling silent for a moment. 'And Harry?' she asked quietly. 'Does he know that you know?'
'No. I am trying to give young Harry space. I think it is better for him if he's not seen to be in my pocket, so to speak. I also believe there is a danger in him knowing too much which I don't fully understand yet. Tell me, Minerva, is he still having nightmares?'
She started. 'I believe so.'
'Mmmm,' Albus steepled his fingers, deep in thought.
'Should I be worrying?' Minerva asked.
'What? Oh no, no. I just need to think on it. I believe he is seeing into Voldemort's mind at times...'
Minerva was definitely worrying.
In October, Educational Decree No.24 was announced, disbanding all student organisation, societies, teams, groups, and clubs; anything which involved a regular meeting of three or more students.
Minerva didn't need to wonder why the Decree had been declared. Someone had snitched on Harry.
The Decree also included Quidditch, unless the High Inquisitor granted permission.
Minerva scowled.
There was uproar in the staffroom but Umbridge just smiled her satisfied horrid smile and trotted out of the room. Minerva considered sending a tripping hex her way. She also noticed she wasn't the only member of staff whose fingers were itching at their wands.
***